


a rainbow tide of rainbow pride

by arabellagaleotti



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1980s, 1990s, Coming Out, Gay Male Character, Gen, Homophobia, Howard Stark is a homophobe, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Police Brutality, Pride Parades, Protests, Riots, kinda???, well pride riot but eh, what happens after you get arrested for protesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 12:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19830724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabellagaleotti/pseuds/arabellagaleotti
Summary: Bandanna laughs as they press him against the ground, and Tony opens his mouth and laughs, he's always liked this moment, still riding the adrenaline from whatever stupid thing he’s done but too soon for the repercussions to set in.OR,It's 1986, and Tony Stark is at a gay rights protest.





	1. the start

The crowd is a moving, breathing, living tsunami around him, a rainbow tide of rainbow pride. There was a describable chant at the start, but now it’s just jumbled yells. It’s effective, though. Tony can see people poking their heads out of windows and stopping in the street to gawk at the crowd.

Someone crashes into him, and his cap jolts off his head, he swears and bends down to grab it. When he comes back up, there’s a girl with a rainbow flag sticking out from her forehead like a unicorn staring at him.

“Tony Stark?”

There's a moment of silence, of not knowing how to react, and then he exhales, “Hi. Having fun?”

She laughs, breathless. “I always do.”

"Good," he says impassively.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

Tony shrugs in response, there's not much he can say.

“Wanna walk with me?" she says instead of waiting for his answer, "there’s a whole group of us.”

He bites his lip, and then, as one of two guys about his age in front of then leans over, kisses the other, long and slow and _safe,_ he says, “sure.”

He’s pulled into a very enthusiastic group of lesbians, several of whom aren't drinking water out of their drink bottles. It’s the most genuine fun he's had in a long time, and as he laughs and stomps and screams with the rest of them, he thinks this is what it must be like to have a community.

No one really knows about him in his life, not mama or Howard or Rhodey. He’s kissed two boys, one, Tiberius Stone, who tasted like the sun and then left to go party in Europe. Two, a drunk frat boy at a party just as in denial as him.

He knows he’s gay, or bi, maybe, because women are beautiful, too. He doesn't talk about it, doesn't lead anyone on but when there are jokes, someone bumps their shoulders together and snickers something about him and Rhodey, he blushes, dark and uncomfortable and changes the subject. People think he's like his father, that he disapproves of it. It's better than them thinking something else.

The crowd turns a corner and steps out onto the pavement of a busy road, they do more than that, start to march down the road, against the traffic.

Tony doesn't think about it, just flips off a cacophony of honks because everyone else does, too.

Then, then, as he’s holding hands with the unicorn-flag girl, another hoisted on his shoulders, a mechanical voice issues out throughout the crowd:

“You have three minutes to retreat. Three minutes to retreat or police action will be enforced.”

He looks over at Unicorn, who's slipping her bottle into her bag.

“What's happening?” Tony asks. The girl on his shoulders is gripping him with sharp fingers, eyes on the line.

“We're causing trouble,” she says, looking down at him. “There's a police blockade and it looks like they’re setting up a line.”

“Are we retreating?” Tony asks, watching the crowd ahead. He can't see much, just some jostling as people move away. There's another girl on someone's shoulders, she's got a hand over her mouth and she's pointing. 

Unicorn laughs.

There's a kind of electricity in the air, goosebumps prickling along his arms. These people are here for this, he realises, they’re stashing away valuables and flags, pulling out bandannas to cover their mouths and nose. People are getting ready.

“Why are they doing that?” he asks the lesbian on his shoulders.

“Tear gas,” she says, like it's obvious. Tony swallows. 

“So this is serious?”

“People are angry. This is a way to change it, show we’re not lying down.”

“People shift on their feet, ripple across the crowd. The police are ready, too, and the message is repeating more urgently now, giving them a choice. Some are leaving, most are staying.

The seconds tick down and Tony thinks, long and hard. He could leave, right now, be done with it, no one would ever know, he could watch it on TV once he’s back and tell Rhodey he was at home in Long Island. The girl on his shoulders slides down his back, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she does.

He grits his teeth, and he stays.

Suddenly there’s screaming and smoke and he has to cover his mouth because it _burns_.

He looks around, he’s alone, surrounded by chaos.

“Hey! Hey!” he yells, looking around for the girls. They’re gone, and all he can see is police in black uniforms, holding riot shields, someone runs into his shoulder, hard, and he falls.

The pavement bites into his palms, he pushes himself up to his hands and knees, the world is spinning, he's disoriented. He knows this is bad, he knows he probably should get out of here but someone has paused, is holding out a hand. It’s a guy, with a rainbow bandanna tied around his mouth and sunglasses over his eyes.

He pulls another bandanna out of his pocket, this one red, and offers it to him. He realises, distantly, that he’s lost his hat, that this person can see who he is.

He takes it with shaking hands, and the man pulls up his bandanna, says, “are you sticking around?”

“Yes,” Tony says, and ties the bandanna over the lower half of his face, it’s damp, and smells like lemon. The man’s mouth curves into a grin.

The man rolls down his bandanna again and tugs him towards where a cluster of people are screaming and throwing themselves against the shields. There's a chant again, although he doesn't hear the words his heat thumps along with the beat violently.

Tony joins them, looks up to the police officer, and shoves his shoulder into the shield.

The rest is a blur.

All he can see is color, the colors of the rainbow as they twirl around him, fighting and yelling and going down with their claws out.

A few are tackled, forced down to the ground, held as they’re handcuffed and thrown into a paddy wagon.

A canister goes sailing over his shoulder, streaming white, and Tony barely thinks as he picks it up with the edge of his shirt because it's hot, overarm throws it over the police line. The action leaves him with a cold, excited feeling inside, he’s starting to sweat and it leaves him jittery.

There's fire, the smell of vodka, as Tony turns and runs, runs, only he _can’t_ because if he does, if he abandons this fight, what's the point? The point of even coming if he doesn't show that he’s willing to do this, to show them that he’s not laying down and letting them walk over his human rights.

So he turns around, finds that rainbow bandanna, and _stands up._

Mostly everyone has gone by now, either fled or handcuffed, he can see a lesbian from before fighting with two policemen attempting to hold her back, kicking and lashing out and doing everything in her power to make it hard. He smiles.

Then bandanna man is sliding the backpack off his shoulders, unzipping it, and handing a Molotov cocktail to him. He flicks on his lighter and looks at him.

Tony looks again at the two boys still holding hands, forced to the ground, and holds the tail of the cloth over it.

It catches easily, and throwing that damn thing might be the easiest thing he’s ever done. It sails over the protesters, landing next to a police car, it sets the ground of fire and melts a tire, a bit but apart from that, doesn't do much else.

Bandanna grins, under his mask, and hands him another.

...

The pavement pressed against his cheek isn't exactly comfortable, per say, but he doesn't really notice it. He doesn't notice anything. He knows that his eyes should be burning, but he doesn't really feel it.

  
Bandanna laughs as they press him against the ground, and Tony opens his mouth and _laughs,_ he's always liked this moment, still riding the adrenaline from whatever stupid thing he’s done but too soon for the repercussions to set in.


	2. the end

  


The paddy wagon is mostly quiet, there's a police officer pouring milk into people's eyes for the tear gas. He keeps his head down, too many people have seen him already, and there were a few press scuttling around before.

They pull up at the station, and he’s perp-walked into it. He keeps his face hidden as much as he can, but gets a few strange glances.

He‘s thrown in a holding cell, with around fifty other people from the rally.

“Hey-ey! Tony!” the lesbian calls, one of the ones not drinking water. "It's me! Maria!"

“Hey,” he says back, walking over to sit next to her quickly. “I saw you get arrested, hell of a fight you put up.”

She laughs, but her smile turns serious. She leans forward, voice quiet. “Look, I dunno how many of these you been to,” she says in her thick New Jersey? voice, “but this is the worst bit. I know your father aint...cool with it, so if you need someone to bail you, I can help.” Right, his fathers stance on gay rights isn't a particular secret, he’s a supporter of many anti-gay organisations. 

“Money isn't really a problem,” Tony laughs.

“Yeah, but you can't do all of this yourself, especially if you're a minor, that's why we always leave someone behind or make sure someone doesn't get caught. Look, Isabella's here already,” she leans up, “hey, Bella!”

A girl wearing a jean jacket and tan ankle boots waves.

“So, you see?” she asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah. I do. Thanks.”

“No problem, honey, we always got each other back.”

He smiles, looks up at her, with her earrings and red lips and pride flags on each cheek, and says, without even thinking, “you can have my number, if you want it.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, “honey, we met at a _pride parade.”_

“No — like if there's another one, or I dunno. If you need someone to bail you.”

She smiles. “Thanks, Tony. I’ll take that number.”

...

“Name?” the female officer asks, not looking up from the form.

“Uh, Anthony Edward Stark,” he says helpfully.

She looks up. “Oh, god, please tell me that's a coincidence,” she says, even when she can see it's not.

“Sorry?” he tries, looking sheepish.

“You got someone to call, hun?” she asks, chewing gum.

“Uh, yeah. My roommate, and he can bail me too.”

“Good thing. There’s a phone, there,” she nods towards the corner of the desk. Tony is tapping into the number to their dorm when she says, “since you’re a minor, I'm gonna have to inform a parent or guardian.”

He freezes. “No, no, you can't do that.”

She looks sorry, “I do have to do that.”

“But — my father. _Fuck_. If you do this, I’ll die. I will die because of it,” he says, leaning forward, all the certainty he he can muster in his voice. She has to understand.

“I have to inform them,” she says, “but that doesn't mean they have to know.”

He leans back, smiles. “My mother’s in France, and my father’s in Malibu, but the Long Island house is listed as the primary residence.”

“You got someone friendly there, hun?”

“Yeah. Ask for Jarvis.”

“Okay.”

...

“Uh, hey Rhodey, it’s me,” he says into the receiver, wincing when there's suspicious silence.

_“What did you do, Tony?”_

“Uh, well, I may have gotten arrested. Again.”

_“What did you do this one?”_

“Well, they say rioting, disturbing the peace, I say protesting for human rights.”

_“Protesting? Human Rights? For what?”_

“...That doesn't matter, look, come down, bail me out, I'll pay you back. I promise.”

_“Why don't you ask your dad? Tony, what are you protesting?”_

“Look, just come down, Rhodes. I’m in New York, NUMBER precinct, okay?”

_“Fine. But I want answers when I get there.”_

“Yeah, you’ll get them.”

...

“Hey, Rhodey-bear,” Tony calls as he walks into the station.

“Tony? Are you okay?” he asks, rushing towards him.

“My eyes hurt, but they gave me milk, so.”

“Seriously, what did you do?” Rhodey asks.

Tony tilts his head back at the still-vibrant holding cell. Rhodey's eyes slide up, down and back up again.

He doesn't say anything. There's silence until Tony breaks it. “Oh, by the way, I’m gay.”

...

“Hey, Jarvis,” Tony says into the receiver, sliding into the car. Rhodey’s driving.

_“Tony. I’ve just received a call from the police.”_

“Yeah, I know. Look, don't tell Howard or — or _anybody_ , okay?”

_“I gathered. Won’t he notice the bail gone?”_

“Nah, I'll get it back when I finish community service.”

_“Yes, what's your punishment?”_

“Uh, I need to go to court and I'll likely get issued a session of picking up trash or something, but that's it.”

_“Good. What did you do to pick up trash on the side of the highway?”_

“Well, I may have rioted.”

_“Rioted.”_ His voice is steely cold.

“...Yes.”

_“For what?”_

“Uh...gay rights?”

Jarvis sighs, _“oh dear god please tell me it wasn't pre-planned.”_

“The rioting wasn't, but the attending may have been.”

_“Okay. That's okay. You just have to make sure your father never finds out.”_

“Why do you think I'm talking to you?”

_“Tony.”_

“Yes?”

_“It's okay.”_

Those two words, three syllables, makes him feel more fucking warm inside than a fresh apple pie.

“I know. Bye, Jarvis.”

_“Goodbye, sir.”_

He hangs up and clears his throat.

...

The drive home is silent. The walk to the dorm is silent. The unlocking of the door is silent.

Finally, Tony is sick of it. “Look, I don't wanna make this weird,” he says. “If you're weirded out, then just tell me.”

Rhodye takes a moment to answer, “I'm not weirded out. I’m just surprised. I didn't wanna talk about it in case you didn't want to.”

Tony release a sigh. “Good. okay. Good.”

“I…” Rhodey starts, then cuts off. Tony nods at him to keep talking, “how long have you, like... known?”

“A few years. My first kiss was a guy.”

“Oh. cool. I mean, like —”

“I'm the same, Rhodey. You just know now.”

There's silence, and then Rhodey asks, tentatively, “Did you have...fun? At the protest?”

“Yeah,” Tony smiles, “it was the best.”

Rhodey smiles back, “that's good. What's it like?"

"A rush," Tony laughs at the understatement. He gets up, opens the minifridge. “Do we have any food?” he asks.

“Nah, lets go to that Chinese takeout,” Rhodey proposes.

  


**Author's Note:**

> yes this might be unrealistic but hey!


End file.
